A Piece of Cake Redux
by UndergroundDaydreams
Summary: We live with the choices we make, but sometimes we get a second chance. A road trip leads to an unexpected detour down memory lane. The goblins have actually done something right for a change. Of course, that's a matter of perspective.
1. A little slice of heaven

**_Author's Note:_**

_Synopsis: We live with the choices we make, but sometimes we get a second chance. A road trip leads to an unexpected detour down memory lane. The goblins have actually done something right for a change. Of course, that's a matter of perspective. Jareth/Sarah. Rated M – for language and suggestive material._

_Standard disclaimer applies._

_So, I'm a little nervous about posting this. I'm feeling this tremendous pressure to write something that is not crap after all the kind reviews for my first story, Invitation. (Thanks to everyone who took the time to review! You all were wonderfully generous with your comments and I really appreciate the feedback!) Anyway, this story is one-shot-ish but I'm planning to post it in four chapters for easier reading._

_Many, many thanks to my beta, Breathofnocte, who has been exceedingly generous with her time and advice. I feel like I've needed quite a bit of hand holding this time around (totally not kidding about the pressure and the nerves) and she has been so patient and supportive._

_Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Enjoy!_

---o0O0o---

**A Piece of Cake **_**Redux**_

_Chapter 1: A little slice of heaven_

_Damn, it's hot._

With her free hand, she reached back, twisting her tangled mess of hair a few times into a makeshift ponytail. It was a vain attempt to catch the breeze glancing off her car through the open window as she sped down Oklahoma's Route 66. Sweat swam down her back and her flesh seemed to have melded with the vinyl of the car seat in defiance of known physics. This kind of heat wasn't even a blip in the collective consciousness of her small New England hometown. _How did people live here? And why didn't she get her a/c fixed before she left?_

The late afternoon sun glared angrily through her windshield; she glared back from behind her sunglasses. Though she hated to lose, she recognized it for what it was - an exercise in futility. She didn't have it in her to continue to fight, the heat having sapped her energy miles ago. Spotting a road-side motel about half a mile up, she good-naturedly conceded the match – game point for Mother Nature – deciding the promise of food, a shower, and a soft bed was a fair consolation prize. Sarah slowed the car, the gaunt specter of an oasis advancing on the right. Turning into the dusty drive, she noted the sign standing sentinel in the hazy afternoon heat: Cloud Nine Motel.

Pulling into an empty space in front of the office, she turned off the engine, reaching for the map and spiral-bound notebook lying in the passenger seat. After a few minutes of quietly cross-checking her location with her notes, she set them aside. "This will do," she said aloud with a little more energy than she felt, her spirits bolstered now that she had a plan of action.

Grabbing her purse, she peeled herself out of the seat, stretching her stiff and protesting muscles as she stood. Reveling in the return of blood flow to her limbs, she pushed the car door closed with her hip, having to bump it a few times for the latch to hold. The navy blue sedan had been passed down to her a couple of years back when her stepmother had bought a new station wagon to accommodate her growing brood. It was ten years old and practically falling apart underneath her, but she held a certain fondness for old Martha, as she came to be known. She had a lot of memories tied up in the old girl and still felt that she could depend on her, deciding to drive her cross country rather than opting for a rental as her dad had suggested. She patted the car a few times in reassurance, sending one last withering look in the sun's direction, before heading toward the motel office.

A bell jangled overhead as she entered, the canned air from the air conditioning raising goose bumps along her exposed skin, but it was blessedly cool compared to the 103◦ heat outside. Her gaze fell on the man behind the counter – probably early forties, plainly dressed with a graying comb-over. He was wholly unremarkable, but seemed friendly enough, giving her a sense of reassurance as a young woman staying alone in a motel in the middle of nowhere. She offered him a friendly smile as she approached the counter.

"Hot enough for ya?" The words almost seemed to emanate from the room itself, the phrase spoken so often that the sound waves just kind of hung out, materializing at the sound of the bell.

"A little too hot - I think I might actually be melting," she replied with a light laugh, her hands raised in a half supplication, indicating her t-shirt and shorts, wrinkled and damp from the hours of driving, and her lank hair hanging in a mop of a twist over her shoulder.

He nodded. "Yeah, it can be tough on the folks passing through. You get used to the heat after a while, live here long enough. But it ain't nothing a glass of iced tea and a nice, cool shower can't fix."

"Exactly what I was thinking. I was hoping to find a room for the night."

"We can certainly help you there," he said, his tone shifting to that of a long practiced sales pitch. He pulled out a log book. "Rooms are $35 a night, free cable and coffee in the office from 7-10am, check out time's 10:30, and there's a 24-hour diner right behind the office here – best pie you've ever tasted," he finished with a smile, grabbing a pen.

"Sounds perfect. Sarah Williams," she supplied as she fished out $40 in travelers checks, passing them over the counter as he jotted down her name and room number.

"Room 113 – second from the right on the first floor. Name's Allen. Call down to the office if you need anything – just press zero from the room phone. Someone's here 24-7." He handed over the room key and her change. "And we have Bible study at seven, if you're interested," he added hopefully.

Sarah smiled politely, slightly amused at the situation. She couldn't think of a single hotel back home that could boast that particular amenity. "I actually have some work to do, but thanks for the offer."

"Well, we'll be in the back room of the diner if you change your mind."

"Ok, thanks," she said dismissively as she tucked the bills into her wallet, her thoughts already turning elsewhere. She registered the slight disappointment shadowing his salesman smile as she turned to leave. Full time motel clerk – part time shepherd, and another little wandering sheep had avoided the herd. Maybe he would have better luck with the next. Despite that she wasn't really the religious type, she really did have work to get done. Not likely she would be in this part of the country again soon, and she was aching to capture a piece of it with the limited time she had. She needed to feel the weight of a camera in her hands, the landscape of possibilities beckoning. She gave him a final half-wave, half-salute as she opened the door, pausing a second to adjust to the suffocating heat before stepping out and heading back to her car.

Moments later, having moved Martha to an empty spot in front of the main building, she turned the key in the door to room 113, dumping her tattered backpack, purse, and equipment bag just inside.

_A little slice of heaven, alright,_ she thought, taking in the shabby little room. The cheap plastic blinds were broken in spots, letting in odd patches of light to highlight peeling wallpaper and worn carpet. The furniture looked old, but sturdy, with a double bed taking center stage next to a small bedside table sporting a phone, an alarm clock that read 4:38 p.m. in bright red digits, and a copy of the Holy Bible. A television set that had seen better days sat atop a dresser on the opposite wall. A slightly musty smell permeated the room. Directly across from the door was an alcove with a clothing rack, a wall-mounted iron and a shelf stacked high with threadbare white towels. The bathroom was off to the right. She headed back to check the facilities, noting a long countertop with an inset sink across from an ancient toilet and stand-up shower.

_It would work in a pinch_, she thought, considering the photographs she wanted to take that afternoon. Succumbing to her need to be clean, she grabbed her toiletry bag and a towel off the shelf, and shuffled into the bathroom to answer the siren call of a long, cool shower.

Half an hour later found Sarah refreshed and dressed in a lavender cotton tank top and flowing knee-length violet skirt. Her long dark chocolate locks hung freely down her back with a small, flat barrette on top keeping it out of her face. She grabbed her camera bag and backpack, heading out the door to take care of priority number two: something to eat.

Spotting a payphone next to a soda vending machine, she detoured to make a quick check-in. Dialing her calling card number followed by her home phone number, Sarah counted the rings until her brother Toby's voice came over the line, "You've reached the Williams family, um, we're not home, so leave a message and we'll call you back!" followed by a minute or so of random background noise – Toby asking if he did alright, reassurances from her stepmother, and the sound of their younger brother and sister wreaking havoc. Sarah smiled as she listened, feeling a touch of homesickness. She missed them all, but she especially missed Toby. He was almost five now, and they had bonded since the day she had wished him away four years ago. He delighted in her stories of goblins, dwarves, beasts that talk, and fairies that bite, and they spent countless hours acting out her adventures. She often wondered if his exuberance was merely a child's love of fantasy, or if he remembered anything from the thirteen hours he had spent in the Underground – with the Goblin King. She frowned slightly as she thought of her former adversary, something she did often, much to her chagrin. Finally hearing a beep, she left a message with the name of the motel and her room number and a quick "Give everyone my love!" before hanging up the phone and making her way to the diner.

Stepping through the door was like stepping back in time. The diner was a throw-back to the fifties. Across from the door was a long counter dotted with red vinyl stools, matching booths lining the opposite wall beneath portraits of various pop icons. A couple of waitresses in kitschy uniforms chatted amiably with a line cook visible from a window behind the counter as Buddy Holly pledged his love to Peggy Sue from a jukebox in the corner. There was only one other patron – an older man in a flannel shirt and cowboy hat reading the paper while eating something covered with gravy a few booths down.

Opting for the counter, Sarah plopped onto one of the stools and gently set down her camera bag as she idly perused a menu, already knowing what she wanted. She was in luck. The younger of the two waitresses, about late twenties, pretty, and freckled, with her red hair pulled back in a sloppy bun under her cap, approached her with a welcoming smile. Her name tag read "Katie."

"Hey, there. What can I get for you, hun?"

Sarah looked up into curious amber eyes. "A grilled cheese sandwich, a bowl of vegetable soup, and a sweet tea would make my world, right about now." She set the menu back in the holder. "Nothing like comfort food when you're away from home."

"Sure thing, darlin'. Rick – grilled cheese and a bowl of veg," she shouted over her shoulder as she poured a glass of tea from one of several pitchers scattered behind the counter. A small grunt came in reply.

"He's just a big ol' teddy bear," she whispered with a wink as she set the glass and a straw in front of Sarah. "So, far from home, huh? Where's home?"

Taking a long sip of tea, Sarah exulted in the mountains of sugar that were going to be coursing through her bloodstream. She sighed happily. "A small town in New York."

Katie leaned forward on the counter, settling in for a good chat. "No kiddin'. Where're you headin' to? There's no way you were headin' here – nobody in their right mind comes here on purpose."

"I'm on my way to California."

Katie gave her a once over, sizing her up. "Not going for a man, are ya?" she asked, her tone heavy with disapproval.

Sarah choked on her tea, coughing a few times before turning wide tear-stained eyes on Katie. _She was like the anti-Allen – no small talk about the weather, straight down to the nitty-gritty._

"Wow, um…no." Really, the idea was kind of laughable - her dating life was certainly nothing to brag about. Her brow furrowed and a shy lop-sided smirk crept across her lips as she considered the woman behind the counter. "No man. I'm actually going to visit my mom in L.A. before school in the fall."

Seemingly satisfied, Katie nodded her head a couple of times. "Good for you, hun. You're smarter than I was at your age." She refilled Sarah's tea. "Me - I was a stupid girl. Left everything behind to follow a smooth talkin' SOB who left me broke and alone – in this very hotel, actually. Lois, there," she nodded at the plump older waitress stacking clean coffee cups at the far end of the counter, "she took me in, got me this job." Katie paused as she continued to watch the other woman fondly, gratitude and something sad Sarah couldn't put her finger on, playing across her features. She turned back, with a small shrug.

"Yeah, thought I'd marry myself a cowboy; have an exciting life like in those romance novels I used to read. Fat lot of good it did me, stuck in this pit of a town with nothing but piles of horseshit everywhere you look. Not that there's much difference between a pile of horseshit and a man, far as I can tell." Katie paused, remembering. "But he was damn sexy, though."

"Not that I'm down on all of 'em. I mean, there's bound to be a couple good ones out there somewhere. You know, statistics and all. I like to think I've learned, grown, since then, but it's a weakness - I'm attracted to bad men," she finished with a sigh. Sarah could sympathize, her thoughts turning to a certain Goblin King who would most definitely fall under the category of "bad men".

A call of "Order Up!" interrupted the silent camaraderie of the two women, each momentarily lost in the shadows of their past. Pushing off from the counter, Katie eyed the pretty young woman sitting across from her pointedly. "Don't ever let a man have power over you."

She couldn't have said the words to a more receptive audience. Sarah just nodded, a memory surfacing, as Katie reached back to grab the plate. The words certainly rang true - so why did they sound so hollow?

Setting the plate front of Sarah, Katie perked up, the past forgotten. "Always wanted to go to California. Reckon you'll meet anyone famous?"

"Maybe," Sarah said with a smile, content to follow her lead. She took a bite of her sandwich. "My mom's an actress."

"Anyone I'd know?"

"Not likely. She does mostly small stage productions. I don't actually know her that well, really. Haven't seen her in years. When she suggested I come out for the summer, I thought it might be a good opportunity to work on my portfolio."

"You a writer or something?"

"A photographer – at least that's what I'm hoping to be."

"Well, if you see anyone famous, take a picture and send it my way," Katie said with a wink.

Leaving Sarah to her lunch, Katie wandered off to help Lois restock another tray of clean dishes. Sarah watched the pair a moment, slightly envious of their obvious familiarity, the sound of their laughing drifting across the diner. She had never had any close girlfriends, something she hoped would change once she got to college.

Turning back to the task at hand, Sarah pulled out her map and notebook from the backpack at her feet, scribbling notes as she made quick work of her lunch. By the time she pushed her empty plate aside, she had a definite plan. Now that she wasn't running on empty, she felt much better and was excited about the evening's project.

As if on cue, Katie sauntered over, nodding at the empty plate. "You sure finished that fast. I'm surprised you're not flat out on the floor for lack of breathing. Can I get ya something else? Coffee? Pie, maybe?"

"Hmmm…pie. I have it on good authority that it's the best pie I'll ever taste."

"That'd be Allen." Katie grabbed a nearby sugar jar, refilling it as she flashed Sarah a conspiratorial look. "So, will we be seeing you a Bible study this evening?"

Sarah laughed. "I managed to weasel my way out of it – work calls."

"He may be a little odd, but he means well – has a good heart," Katie reflected as she swiped a rag across the counter, split grains of sugar disappearing under red and blue stripes. "But he was right about the pie.

"We usually have apple, but we came in this morning and the whole bunch was busted and bruised like someone just stomped the hell out of them. Thought it might be Jeremy, does the dishes, but turns out he had a hot date last night," she confided with a knowing smile. "Anyways, we just had a nice delivery of peaches. Nothing quite like peach pie and a scoop of ice cream on a hot summer's day."

Sarah visibly deflated. She had had her heart set on pie. _Damn peaches._ _It was kind of pervy, really, plying young girls with hallucinogenic fruit._ She hadn't touched a peach in four years.

"Did you check them for little green worms?" she mumbled half-heartedly under her breath.

"What was that, hun?"

"Oh, nothing – just talking to myself," Sarah slid off the stool, grabbing her camera bag and backpack. "I think I'm going to have to pass on the pie, but thanks. I'll take the coffee though, please – to go."

"Sure thing – be right up." Jotting down Sarah's order on a pad she fished from her apron pocket, Katie tore off the top sheet, laying it in on the counter next to the empty plate before setting about pouring the coffee. Sarah covered it with enough cash to take care of the bill and tip.

"I'm Sarah, by the way," she offered, feeling a strange kind of kinship with the woman.

"Sarah." She tried the name out as she handed over the coffee. A softer, somehow more genuine, smile lit up her face. "It was nice to meet you, Sarah. I'm Katie. Be sure to stop back by before you head out."

Sarah returned the smile, feeling as if she had just made a friend in some small way. "I will, thanks." After adding a generous amount of cream and sugar to the steaming cup, she turned to leave with a wave.

Scooping up the money on the counter, Katie called out as Sarah reached the door, "Be careful out there. Lois says the weatherman's calling for storms this evening."

---o0O0o---

**_Author's Note:_**

_I'm taking quite a few geographic liberties with Rt. 66, even more so in chapter 2, so bear with me on that. So, that was chapter 1, and chapter 2 is on its way to being finished, although it's fighting me every step of the way. :/ The whole story is outlined, just need to finish writing it up. This writing stuff is hard work._

_Please, leave a contribution in the little box. ;) Again, contrsuctive criticism is always appreciated. I'm not a writer and this is just for fun, but I would like to improve. Thanks for reading!_


	2. A storm brews

_Chapter 2: A storm brews_

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Jericho

Population: 93

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The drive had been short, less than five minutes from the motel. Sarah stepped out of the car onto the deserted road, camera in hand. All that remained of Jericho – a few broken buildings and a decrepit windmill – waiting to be rediscovered ahead of her.

Off to the west, she could see the clouds bubbling up, orange and pink in the fading light, the tallest having crashed into an invisible ceiling, its insides spreading across the sky, oozing along the barrier. Sarah thought of Katie's warning as she left the diner. She couldn't tell how far off they were – the view stretching out for miles – but she figured she had time enough before the rain fell. _If_ the rain fell – the sky more like a watercolor painting, beautifully serene, than a potential threat. Brandishing her camera, Sarah took a few shots, hoping to capture the scene, even as it morphed brush stroke by brush stroke, before turning back to the forgotten little ghost of a town.

Setting off across the field, the weeds peeked playfully under her skirt, tickling her knees. A passing thought of snakes slowed her pace as she picked out the clearest path to what looked to have once been a motor court at the far edge of the ruins. The windows and doors had been lost to time and the weathered boards that made up the skeletal structure were weak and soft, trembling in the breeze, and looking as if a particularly violent ill-placed sneeze would send the whole building crashing to the ground. Sarah stepped carefully onto the threshold, placing her hand on the door frame as she peeked inside.

Debris littered the floor of the one-room building, the light slanting through a window on the back wall falling softly on a broken chair, a tattered doll lying at its feet. Its dress was caked with mud and its porcelain face broken, one eye staring soullessly up toward the rafters, yearning for the hidden sun, a substitute for a warm gaze lost. Curiosity about the child it had belonged to and who she might have become gave way to an eerie nostalgia for a world she had never known as she contemplated the silent monologue before her.

Drawn out of her internal musing by a play of light in the shadows, her gaze slid from the doll to a rusted mirror leaning against the far wall, kitty-corner to the door way. The image was odd, shifting in a way it shouldn't be. Sarah stepped back to scan the landscape, the absence of trees reaffirming her doubts, before peeking back in again. _No, it definitely should not be doing that._

Light danced across the mercurial surface, splashes of color glimmering in its depths. The image reflected was as it should be, but not. She could just make out the chair and the dust swirling in the shaft of light, but the doll at its feet was missing – and something was _moving_. Snatches of white twirled in and out of focus, to and fro from the recesses of its inner world. It was like the looking glass room, but where not only books were read backwards, but perhaps time as well? In the briefest of flashes, she could swear she just saw the doll moving through space in tiny, delicate hands…_was that a girl?_

"What the heck…" Sarah stepped abruptly inside, determined to get a closer look and prove to herself she wasn't losing it, only to withdraw quickly as the board sagged beneath her foot with a loud groan. Eyeing the floor dubiously, she caught a glint of light out of the corner of her eye. Looking up to identify the source, her eyes found a small object lying not far from the doll she hadn't noticed before – a needle-tipped syringe. Images of crystal meth labs and other more unsavory elements of modern times came into focus, the past blurring in the background. Glancing down at her feet with a small sigh, she wiggled her toes, deciding that flip-flops were probably not the best footwear for exploring.

"Perhaps not…" she relented, shrugging the strap of her camera off her shoulder. Determined to get something out of the scene, she snapped a few photos, angling to catch the syringe with the doll, toying with ideas of innocence lost, or changing morals and customs over time as she framed the shot. The mix of light and shadow provided an interesting aura and she struggled with how to adjust the settings to capture it on film.

Satisfied with her effort, she shot one last glance at the mirror – the images had gone still, only darkness reflected back at her. It must have been a trick of the light – or, more likely, early symptoms of heat exhaustion, she decided, disgusted that her clothes and hair were already damp with sweat, and her skin flushed. The rain couldn't come soon enough, as far as she was concerned, pictures or not.

Shaking it off, Sarah backed away from the once-upon-a-time motor court, venturing out to explore the other ruins. Snapping a few photos of the pile of rubbish that had once been a windmill, she suddenly paused, letting her camera drop to her side as she surveyed the town. "Damn it!"

Goblins.

She had caught a glimpse of one with the last click of the shutter. She had been hoping they'd make themselves scarce, just once. They ruined more pictures than she'd like to admit.

She could never figure it out, the physics of the thing – light, mechanics, chemicals – how they managed to show up in pictures when she had never met anybody else who could actually _see_ them. Well, she had her suspicions about Toby, but so far nothing concrete.

She had shown one of these impossible photos to an ex-boyfriend once, a poorly thought out experiment when she was still determined that there had to be an explanation. Naturally, he freaked out a bit, going on and on about UFOs and little green men. She had given a flimsy excuse and they were broken up within the week. That hadn't been one of her brightest ideas; he still gave her strange looks whenever she ran into him.

Sarah hadn't shown anybody since, keeping all the goblin photos in a shoebox at the back of her closet. She had a suspicion that they liked having their photos taken, like little kids before self-consciousness makes them camera shy. She often found the photos scattered about in the back of her closet along with telltale signs of goblin rifling – dirt, smudges, and traces of glitter. She wasn't sure exactly why she kept them, but she figured she could always sell them to the National Enquirer if she was ever hard up for cash.

She didn't actually interact with the goblins, outside of the occasional plate of cookies left on the dining room table. They were just kind of there - background music to the warped fantasy-laced existence her life had become. She supposed it was a side-effect of running the Labyrinth. Everything in her life seemed to stream from that moment in time, her life split chronologically into B.L. and A.L – Before Labyrinth and After Labyrinth. It was like the birth of Christ, but creepy and annoying.

It wasn't all bad. At least some life's small, yet perplexing, mysteries had been solved.

_'Goblins.'_ Sarah could always be counted on to chime in with this offhand excuse when her stepmother complained about missing socks or her dad ranted about not being able to find his keys in his rush to get to work in the morning. She had certainly not been the first to lay this blame, but she wondered if she was the only one who knew it was actually true. Sure, there were other incarnations of the story – fairies, brownies, gnomes – she had heard them all her life. The stories had to come from somewhere – there had to be others out there who had seen them, who could see them.

Irritated with the intrusion of goblins yet again, Sarah tattooed something vaguely resembling a funeral dirge with her finger against the camera lens as she idly pondered the merits of starting a support group - Labyrinth Runners Anonymous. Hell, at this point she'd even settle for a therapy session for the mildly schizophrenic. At least she'd have a sympathetic ear. If only she could find others. It was kind of fun to have a secret, but lonely. She didn't want to be the only one.

Sighing, she lifted her camera back to ready position, the shutter clicking away as she used up the last of the roll, hoping to get a few goblin-free photos out of the day. The camera whirred, rewinding the film, as she took in the rapidly changing weather. In the hour that she had been there, the sky had changed from a rosy peach to an ominous grey, the clouds coming in fast.

Spurred to the present by the advancing storm, Sarah made her way quickly back to Martha. Tossing her camera into the passenger seat as she climbed in, she struggled in a tug-of war with the wind, her ultimate victory punctuated by the slam of the door. Keeping a careful watch on the sky, she headed back along the deserted roads to the motel. By the time she pulled up in front of her room, the world had taken on a sickly green cast, nauseated from the rolling motion of the clouds and relentless buffeting of the wind.

Stepping out of her car, Sarah fought to breathe, the wind a steady suffocating stream. Her hair thrashed wildly, small damp whips lashing against her face and neck. She reached back in to snatch her camera and backpack in a hurry to get inside before the downpour, but paused as she caught an anomaly in her peripheral vision. Ducking her head back out underneath the door frame, Sarah turned to take it all in – a funnel drifting lazily from the base of cloud less than a mile behind the hotel. It meandered slowly across the sky, bending and straightening as if deciding where to touch down and changing its mind over and over again. _Who knew tornadoes could be so fickle?_

Excited, and maybe just a little scared, Sarah snapped into action, turning back to grab her camera and a new roll of film from her backpack. In a half-walk, half-jog, Sarah clumsily loaded the film as she made her way to the barren field behind the main building of the motel. Having made up its mind, the funnel had touched down, looking much larger circled by a cloud of debris as it headed toward the motel, toward her. Deciding to press her luck with the idea that even the goblins would keep their big heads out her photos given the twisting wrath of nature barreling closer, Sarah's camera clicked away the seconds to safety.

"Ouch! Shit." The knock of common sense finally came in the form of small, but painful, hailstones falling heavily out of the sky. Hugging her camera close under her shirt, Sarah scanned her surroundings for the nearest shelter, debating if her room, the diner, or the office was the safest bet. She spotted a raised door in the ground behind the main building underneath a makeshift sign, little more than a spare plank of wood with large white lettering: UNDERGROUND SHELTER. Decision made.

Running awkwardly across the field, she reached the entrance in a flash, yanked open the door, and took a few tentative steps inside. She didn't notice the pint-sized creature that scrambled in after her, its little fist pumping in the air, the door slamming just as it slipped inside. The vibration sent a tremor up through side of the building, aggravating the crack running up the middle of the sign, followed by a gust of wind that sent the word "SHELTER" tumbling to the ground with a soft thud.

Sarah paused on the stairs, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, the only light provided by dim shafts breaking though the wood in the door above. She could just make out the faint outlines of boxes stacked against the wall. Moving the rest of the way down, she set her camera on top of a nearby crate.

Using her fingertips to guide her, she made her way further into the room. It seemed much deeper than she originally thought. Spotting a faint glow ahead, she wondered if the shelter somehow connected to a basement under the diner. Thinking of the rag-tag crew she had met earlier, she hoped that they were all safely underground. She headed towards it.

The light grew incrementally brighter as she made her way down the tunnel, the sound of the storm raging above fading with every step. The temperature dropped steadily, the sweat coating her skin evaporating, leaving her chilled. She ran her hand along the wall, impressed by the effort put into building the passageway – neat stone bricks forming solid walls, damp and glistening.

The warning boomed out suddenly in the still air. "Beware, for the path you take will lead to certain destruction!"

Sarah's chest tightened, a telltale sign of the surge of adrenaline as her instincts clamored - _fight or flight._

"No."

Whirling around, she peered into the narrow tunnel leading off to the left. In the dim glow she could just make them out – faces. Large, stone faces looking back at her with dead eyes.

"No – there is absolutely no way…" That's when she heard them – boots clicking on the stone floor in the passageway behind her. She froze, listening. They paused for only a moment before continuing their advance in a slower, somehow _smug,_ manner. They stopped and Sarah held her breath.

A voice full of promises of sinful things, a voice all too familiar, lazily edged its way past her denial. "My, my, what have we here?"

---o0O0o---

_**Author's Note:**_

_Wow, this chapter took me a few weeks to write. I didn't intend for that to be the case, but the well had run dry there for a couple weeks. So, sorry to anyone who was waiting! Also, many thanks to my beta Breathofnocte!_

_Just as an FYI - Jericho is actually a ghost town, but it's in the Texas Panhandle, rather than Oklahoma. It looks much like it's described, but there's not a sign, other than the one for the cemetery. Please forgive the geographic liberties._

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :) Constructive criticism is always appreciated.  
_


	3. A very bad man

_**Author's Note:**_

:)

-o0O0o-

_Chapter 3: A very bad man_

_No, no, no, no, no…_

_How was this even happening?_

This day was not going at all like she planned.

Sarah squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath as she turned to come face-to-face with the Goblin King.

An uneasy feeling of déjà vu enveloped her, her resolve becoming hazy, as she took in his familiar dress – armored leather jacket over an open ruffled shirt tucked into incredibly tight pants. Her gaze traveled downward along his casually arrogant frame, pausing only a moment before snapping back up to meet his.

She remembered, swallowing her slight panic. They had been here before - only this time felt considerably more…troubling.

Heaven and earth reflected back at her from piercing eyes glistening with thinly veiled amusement, his wild hair a halo in the soft glow, standing out against the angular shadows of his face. He was overwhelming - more real than the stone beneath her feet, the air that she had to remind herself to breathe. His ethereal beauty was tempered by the unmitigated sin bleeding from every fiber of his being - a fallen angel. If there was such a thing, she was preparing to do battle with one, for the second time.

Regaining control of her faculties, she instantly dismayed as she took inventory – dirty, sweaty, and wind-blown – in other words, woefully inadequate. _Sarah -_ w_hat is wrong with you?_ What did it matter what she looked like? He was a baby-snatching cheat.

Lifting her chin fractionally higher, she returned his regard coolly. "What do you want? Why am I here?"

Jareth arched a painted brow at her petulance. "I believe you're my present."

Sarah was baffled. _What in the world was he talking about?_ "Excuse me?"

He tilted his head, beguiling her with an easy smile. "It's my birthday."

She had seen him smile only once, maybe twice, before, and she had been in no state to appreciate it then. The effect was slightly dazzling.

"Oh, well, happy birthday," she mumbled. She felt the slightest twinge of regret at her previous rudeness, discarding it immediately as she reminded herself whom she was dealing with.

Just then, a tiny goblin scurried past on her right. "Now, wait just a minute," Sarah demanded, reaching out to grab it by the scruff of its neck. "What's this about a present?"

Kicking its feet out wildly in an effort to free itself, it succeeded only in working up enough momentum to swing pendulum-like from her outstretched hand. Gravity doing its work, the goblin finally came to a stop, dangling limply and looking at her with wide, puppy-dog eyes.

Sarah was not in the least bit put off. She cocked an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Would you like me to bog him?" Jareth offered. He had been leaning casually against the wall of the tunnel, one boot planted firmly against the brick, idly toying with a crystal as he watched the scene with amused interest.

Sarah turned to look at him, puzzled. "What?" _Bog him?_ Did it happen so often that it had morphed into a verb? Temporarily mesmerized by the moving crystal, she pondered the workings of the Underground as it slid back and forth rhythmically over his gloved fingers, snatches of light dancing along the walls.

Sensing her preoccupation, the goblin renewed its struggles. "Um…no," she answered distractedly, the spell broken. Slipping from her grasp, the goblin gave a little starting hop before making its way quickly down the passageway.

"Don't think I'm going to forget about this, you meddling little twerp," she called after the retreating goblin. _Peach pie._ And she was pretty sure they had something to do with that mirror, too. As an afterthought, Sarah added to the threat. "And no more cookies!"

This last gave the goblin pause. His little head turned back slowly, a look of horror on its face. Sarah fixed him with a glare that sent him scampering.

Planting her hands on her hips, she turned back to Jareth, thoroughly irritated. "The only thing I want from you is to send me back."

"Ah." The crystal disappeared with a small pop. "I thought this might come up." He pushed off the wall, his arms folding behind his back as he stalked gracefully toward her. "You see, the thing is, there usually has to be an exchange or bargain of some sort. An appeasement of the Labyrinth, if you will." He paused, a mere foot separating them, a half-formed smile - _or was it a sneer?_ - on his lips. Sarah got the distinct impression of a large cat readying to pounce, the dammed energy humming in the air between them. He tilted his head as he studied her. "What do you have to offer?"

She had nothing. She didn't ask for this. "This is bullshit! It's not…"

"Shhhh…" Gloved fingers against her lips effectively silenced her. "Spare me the theatrics."

She slapped his hand away. "Don't shush me. I'm not a child."

Ignoring her transgression, Jareth renewed his advance, backing her up against the wall. Draping an arm against the stone above her head, his gaze dropped only to drift slowly upwards, lingering as it suited him. Sarah crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously just as his eyes remembered hers. He gave her a rakish grin. "I can see that."

Sarah glared at him.

"Lucky for you, I'm feeling generous." She narrowed her eyes even further. They had very different views on the definition of that particular word.

"Just a trifle, really. You won't even miss it." Jareth reached out, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger, letting it uncurl slowly as his eyes shifted back to hers.

She freed her hair with an angry toss of her head. "What is it?"

He let his hand drop with a condescending smile. "A kiss, Sarah. Nothing more."

The fact that he remembered her name sent a small shiver of delight skipping across her synapses. She had wondered. It annoyed her to no end that she cared.

Latching on to the annoyance, she pushed the feeling aside to deal with the decidedly more pressing issue. "How will a kiss appease the Labyrinth?"

"If the King's happy." He shrugged. "And seeing as I'm lacking in female companionship this evening…" He left it to her imagination to supply the rest.

_Jerk._ What did she care if he spent every waking hour in bed with every whore in the Underground? She didn't - much.

"You're disgusting."

As soon the words left her lips, she regretted them. His eyes flashed, latent heat fueling the storms smoldering in his gaze threatening to melt his icy cool exterior. Hadn't she learned to never take anything for granted? She had been too quick to forget how very dangerous he could be underneath the airy glamour.

Paling at the first stirrings of genuine fear, she felt the sudden echo of an increased tension in his frame, just a flash before it faded, his expression clearing just as quickly as it had darkened.

As if nothing had happened, he gave her another careless shrug. "You know the price."

Relieved, but wary, at the sudden reversal, Sarah took a steadying breath before shooting him a sideways glance. "Just a kiss? And you'll send me back?"

A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Goblin's honor."

She didn't believe they had ever heard of such a thing.

But, really, what choice did she have? Sarah slumped against the wall, looking away from him as she considered her options. As much as she hated to admit it, she was at his mercy. It was just a kiss. It's not like she hadn't kissed a boy before - three of them, actually, if she counted Scotty in second grade. She had a feeling that her basis for comparison was going to be found lacking.

This was getting ridiculous. She looked up at him expectantly, letting her arms drop to her sides, her head falling back to rest against the wall behind her. "Fine."

His expression neutral, he merely nodded his acceptance, acknowledging their verbal contract. Raising his hand near her face, Jareth leaned in slightly before pausing with a slight smile. Understanding, Sarah obediently closed her eyes.

Soft leather fingers touched her closed lids, trailing downwards over the slope of her nose to trace the outline of lips, parting slightly with an inaudible sigh under his feather-light caress. Acutely feeling the absence of his touch as his hand lifted, Sarah was both eased and apprehensive when it returned after the briefest of moments, the back of his fingers brushing across her jaw line, continuing along the column of her throat, down between her breasts. She jumped as his nails grazed the flat plane of her stomach before his hand came to rest possessively on her hip.

Sarah's skin tingled, her nerve endings screaming for satisfaction as she waited nervously for the consummation of their bargain. She could picture the, notably absent, antique clock in the darkness behind her lids, ticking away seconds that stretched like hours. _What was he doing?_

She couldn't take it anymore. The tension was killing her. She cracked an eye open to find him quite relaxed, a look of amused, distinctly male, arrogance on his face.

"In a hurry, love?"

_How was it possible to be so thoroughly annoyed with someone and have an undeniably vehement craving for him at the same time?_

She tilted her head, eyeing him with exasperation. "In a hurry to get the hell out of here," she shot back, the physical tension morphing into a more familiar form of irritation. "Can we get this over with, please?"

"So cruel, Sarah." She could feel the words against her mouth, just before his lips brushed hers. He hovered, his breath a promise on her lips. "Don't spoil it." It almost sounded as if he was asking.

Her gut twisted. Damn him for making her feel guilty – again. She really wasn't normally this rude. Rolling her shoulders, she forced herself to relax.

Sensing her acquiescence, Jareth brushed his lips across hers again, teasing with the whisper of a kiss. His hand crept surreptitiously from her hip to slide over her left rear cheek, eliciting a little squeak of protest as he squeezed. _Holy cow -_ w_hen did he get so grabby? _She could feel the hint of his smile against her lips as she abruptly reached behind her to move his hand upwards to a more appropriate, less tempting, place at the small of her back.

Rather than push his luck, he used the leverage of the new position to pull her closer, his lips molding more firmly to hers.

_Oh my_, _was he good at this_, she marveled, the thought having escaped the bubbling torrent of goo that had once comprised coherent thought processes as his mouth moved skillfully over hers - teasing, taunting, seducing. If the real price of her freedom was to ruin her for all other men, he was succeeding masterfully; however, she couldn't help but entertain the curious thought that he was holding out on her, the kiss more chaste than she had expected. As if reading her thoughts, he pulled away slightly, ending the kiss.

The tenuous grip on her pride crumbled at the loss - she wanted more. Giving in to the need, she leaned forward into him, practically begging, only to stumble, the air before her cool and empty. Her eyes fluttered open hesitantly, unwilling to let the moment go.

She was alone. In a very tiny, very box-like tornado shelter in Nowhere, Oklahoma. She placed her hand flat against the most solid of solid walls to her right, slumping back against the wall behind her. Her other hand came to her lips, swollen, warm and wanting.

_It really wasn't fair…_

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_So...was the ridiculously long build-up worth it?_

_Anywho, one more chapter and this little trip is over._

_Thanks to my beta, breathofnocte!_

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :) I really do appreciate the feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome.  
_


	4. The way forward

-o0O0o-

_Chapter 4__: The way forward…_

The storm had grown quiet above her, the silence warm and heavy – comforting after the chaos. Sarah straightened up from the wall, shaking off her pout like an outgrown coat. Her gaze meandered, taking in the room as it actually existed in time and space, before landing on her camera sitting on top of the crate where she'd left it.

"Stupid, Sarah." Her stepmom was always harping on her about her flightiness; it was annoying, but she wasn't wrong. Sarah knew she was a dreamer, always a little out of step with reality. She had given up on changing.

Walking over, she picked up her camera to inspect it. She could just imagine the conversation…

_Hey, Dad, can you send $200 – my camera's broken._

_What did you do this time, Sarah? _He would have that disapproving, exasperated tone with just a hint of resignation.

_Well, you see, Dad, there was this tornado and I was whisked away to this place called the Underground, which is not really underground, but I'm not really sure where it is exactly, and there were these goblins that orchestrated this whisking away as a present for their king on his birthday, who I kind of had to kiss in exchange for my freedom. So, you see, I was a little preoccupied and I kind of left my camera and, well…_

Yeah – that was going to go over well. Luckily, it wasn't damaged - no thanks to her.

Slipping the strap over her shoulder, she made her way up the rickety stairs, pushing at the heavy wooden doors. They swung open with a bang to a world darkened, the sky highlighted with wisps of red and grey speared by divinity, shafts of light polka-dotting the aftermath.

Stepping out, she was relieved to see that the main building was still standing. Turning back to close the doors, she paused as she noticed the altered sign. "Of course," she sighed with a roll of her eyes - w_hat else would it possibly say? - _ before stalking around the short end of the building, heading road-side to inspect the damage.

Turning the corner, she blinked as the silent blue and red scream from the emergency vehicles temporarily blinded her. She could see Allen talking with a police officer who was methodically jotting down notes, a small tree embedded in the roof of the front half of the office behind him. A couple of paramedics were leaning against an ambulance looking bored; she took this as a good sign that no one was seriously injured. Shielding her eyes from the glare, they skimmed the parking lot, tripping over the debris on their way to the diner. The windows that made up the front wall were shattered, roof tiles had gone missing, and a rain gutter hung on by a prayer. Worried about Katie, she headed toward it.

Careful of the glass crunching underfoot, Sarah opened the door, little more than a steel frame now, and stepped inside. Katie was sweeping broken glass into a dust pan. She looked up at the sound of the door.

"Oh God, Sarah! I was so worried!" Her hand flew to her chest, relief evident on her face. "I saw your car out there but nobody knew where you were."

"I'm fine. I found the shelter in the back." She decided not mention its newfound tendency to shift dimension. "Everyone ok?"

Katie sagged back against the counter. "Yeah, everyone's fine – a little shaken, but fine. We were lucky; it just side-swiped us."

"I'd hate to see unlucky." Sarah grabbed an idle broom leaning against the door frame. "That was a first for me and I think I'm pretty set for a while as far as extreme weather goes."

At her admission, Katie, Lois and Rick jumped at the chance to rehash and compare notes on past tornadoes as they all set about putting the diner to rights. A cute boy with sandy brown hair, about Sarah's age, chimed in with stories of his own, chatting with her as they worked side by side. He was dressed in cowboy boots, jeans, and a white t-shirt, a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve revealing an ornate cross tattoo. She assumed he was part of the thwarted Bible study group – there were a few others here as well. Sarah could tell he was interested, and she graciously side-stepped his blatant flirting. She was touched by something, and she was afraid Mr. Cute-Bible-Study-Boy would be tainted by association. She didn't want to be responsible.

Sarah looked up as a crash shattered the easy conversation, Katie having dropped a tray of dishes sending broken glass skittering across the floor.

"Oh! Katie – you're bleeding!" Sarah hurried to her side to inspect the gash running along forearm.

Katie waved it off. "It's nothing - just a scratch. No need to fuss."

"No, Katie, really, we should clean this up. Got a first aid kit around here somewhere?"

"Sure – in the back." Relenting, Katie let Sarah lead her through the kitchen to the employee bathroom. She hopped up on the counter, wincing slightly at the weight on her arm while Sarah retrieved the kit from under the sink.

"So, that guy's pretty cute, huh? He's a little too young for me, but you…" Katie gave her a nudge with her elbow.

Sarah just smiled and shook her head at the suggestion as she busied herself washing and bandaging the gash. "Hold still or I'll never get this to stick."

"Sure you ain't going to be a doctor?" she teased.

"Not too bad, huh?" Sarah smiled as she replaced the kit under the counter. She hugged herself as she stood, the day's events catching up to her like sudden vertigo. "Hey, Katie?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you happy?"

Katie looked up from the bandage, a sad smile gracing her lips. "Every other breath." She searched Sarah's eyes for a moment before looking away. "Thanks." Her hand brushed briefly over the bandage in acknowledgment before she slid to the floor. "You'll be here tomorrow mornin'?"

"Ah, yeah. I'll be here." Sarah smiled.

Katie gave her shoulder a small squeeze. "Anything you want – on the house. You look a little white, hun. Go get some rest; we can handle it from here."

Feeling numb and supposing it was borderline shock, she took Katie's advice and headed back to her room, saying a quiet goodnight to those left in the diner on her way out, and pretending not to notice Mr. Cute-Bible-Study-Boy's lingering glance.

She considered Katie's answer as she made her way through the parking lot. _Every other breath._ Sarah wondered if she had hardened her heart after giving it to someone careless. Is that what Katie was missing? Someone to trust, someone to love enough to let yourself be vulnerable? _Don't ever let a man have power over you. _She had said something similar once herself.

Reaching her car, Sarah slid her hand along the dimpled exterior. Looked like she'd be having that money conversation after all. Her stomach growled; she sighed. "I really should have had the damn pie."

Grabbing her backpack out of the driver's seat, Sarah bought a soda from the vending machine before heading to her room. A little too wound up to sleep, she decided to spend some time developing the film she'd shot earlier.

The room was draped in twilight, splashes of red and blue from the emergency vehicles still outside panning the room in pulses. The clock blinked 7:38 pm. Letting her backpack slide from her shoulder to the floor beside the bed, she walked around to the side table to set down her soda.

A small white box sat conspicuously on the table, a folded piece of paper perched on top. She blinked once, considering, before tilting her head and reaching cautiously for the note…

_A peace offering from the goblins_

_And for old times_

_Your slave,_

_- J_

Jareth. He had been here – in her room. Well, he could have sent a goblin, but it was still slightly unnerving. Sinking onto the bed, she stared at the box for a moment before reaching for it and settling it on her lap. She had no idea what it could be; and that made her nervous.

She tapped her fingers on the side of the box, reread the note, contemplated, lifted the box to test its weight, and read the note a third time. Cursing herself, she let out a small puff of breath and opened the box.

It was like a big red shiny forbidden apple.

A piece of cake – chocolate with peach frosting and a single candle. She could smell the faint trace of smoke. It seemed somehow appropriate - the faint bitterness mixing with the sweet sugary scent. Her words thrown back in her face. Sarah smiled despite herself.

Forbidden or not, she wanted to take a bite.

Reaching across the bed, Sarah contorted to dig in her backpack for the utensil kit she had saved from the gas station in Missouri. Unwrapping the plastic fork, she hesitated only a moment, wondering how long Eve deliberated when she doomed the world, before sinking her fork in and bringing it to her lips.

She chewed and swallowed and waited.

No crystalline dreams, no drug-induced coma - nothing. The world hadn't fallen down. She didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

But at least she wouldn't be hungry. It was delicious in an arrogant way, like nothing she had ever tasted. She knew the pie would have paled beside it, once again reminded that her basis for comparison was pathetic.

Arranging the pillows behind her, Sarah scooted back with a sigh to enjoy her dinner. She popped open her soda and read the note once more.

He had come back into her life unexpectedly after four years. And he had given her a gift – a mocking, never-take-anything-for-grated, throwing-her-words-back-in-her-face gift, but a gift, nonetheless. Something to remind her, like he didn't want her to forget.

A piece of cake. It wasn't then and it was even less so now.

And the goblins…she smiled. Perhaps the goblins weren't so bad after all.

-o0O0o-

_**finis**_

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_So, this is the end - for now. I feel like people were expecting more, and like I'm letting you down slightly, which hurts my heart a little bit. :/ It ended in the way I intended it to from the start, kind of one-shotish and open ended. However, I do plan on writing an epilogue, a glimpse into Jareth's head during their encounter, and then eventually a sequel that picks up in the fall when she gets to school based on an idea tossed out in Chapter 2. Don't know when I'll get around to either since I have to focus on getting my thesis written, so I'm marking this as complete for now. I'll tack on the epilogue once I've hashed it out and the sequel will be a separate story._

_Again, many thanks to my beta, breathofnocte!_

_Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little trip. Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :) I really appreciate the feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome._


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